


Swim Good

by eniaenia



Category: iKON (Korea Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Bisexual Character, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Internal Conflict, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-17 15:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14191713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eniaenia/pseuds/eniaenia
Summary: There it was: Jungkook had stared up at him on stage. Jungkook was into his music. Jungkook was beautiful. And Bobby was fucked.





	1. Intro: A big enough trunk

“Yah, hyung…”

Donghyuk tapped lightly on Bobby’s door, pushing in with one knee, mug dangerously filled with tea in one hand, his phone in the other. 

“What’s up, kid?” 

Bobby knew even without turning around that Donghyuk was huffing away under his breath, complaining at his incessant use of “kid”. It was meant well, and Donghyuk was the last person to hold grudges. He knew it was Bobby’s way of showing care, in the way he knew how. Especially on long evenings like this. What was he even doing up still?

“I wanted to tell you, hyung. Did you see the fan cams?”

“Fan cams?”

“Bangtan… He did it again”.

Bobby found himself pausing over his mouse for a tense second, before rolling back his shoulders, away from the computer. He’d been hunched over his desk for an hour, moving between writing in his notebook, and tweaking a sample Hanbin brought to show him two nights ago. 

He hoped Donghyuk didn’t see that moment – he would make too big of a deal out of it. He cared, Bobby knew, but his particular kind of attention was not something Bobby wanted to deal with right now. Being seen was fine on stage; stripped of strobing lights and tucked in away from the world was a whole different matter.

And ok, he knew this might happen. BTS’ maknae had been picked up by fans online before, bobbing along to iKON’s music. But also Big Bang's. And EXO’s. And GOT7’s. And Twice’s, for love of God, Bobby, what are you even thinking? 

Ok, maybe some fans noted it was his raps in particular that he danced and sang along to. And yes, with his bandmates in the mix, it was no surprise they were active during other performances. He knew the drill; he knew the industry.

He jammed to BTS plenty of times. Namjoon texted him after the Seoul Music Awards with a “dab much?”, followed by a baby chick emoji (because Namjoon wouldn’t be Namjoon if he didn’t immediately feel bad after teasing someone and try to make up for it via the most awkward use of internet vocabulary imaginable). Tae just wrote “Jesus man, whatever was that dancing? PS You love me”. Left it at that. They were friends, it was cool.

Still, he hoped. He hoped that when Donghyuk closed the door behind him, finally yawning as the clock showed 3.17 am, and wishing him a good night… Bobby wished he wouldn’t find a video on Naver already. He wished he wouldn’t see his face. He already ignored that part of the room earlier that evening, looking everywhere but right there ahead of him during the performance. He cleared out of the backstage as soon as possible to avoid crossing paths. Hanbin gave him a look. This was Melon, man, not a joke. He was seen. It was his job to be seen. Still he wished. He typed into the search and he wished. And then he wished away.

The first video showed him facing the stage, signing then rapping along from the first bars. Then he got into it properly, that nose of his scrunching away in clearly not at all hardcore delight, so much so that Taehyung gave him a look. He didn’t let up until the very end. Toothy smiles, head bangs, shoulder rolls. The whole infuriating nine yards.

Here’s the thing. Bobby knew he was going to be there. He wasn’t dumb. He knew not looking across wouldn’t mean the person in question would simply disappear. But did he hate the fan cams sometimes. Especially in situations like this. 

They reminded him, ok? Despite the low resolution and the bad lighting, and the industrial cameras that got in the way, they got the truth. And the truth stared him right into his face, splashed across his computer at 3.25 am, mere hours after they got back to the dorms.

There it was: Jungkook had stared up at him on stage. Jungkook was into his music. Jungkook was beautiful. And Bobby was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction is but a drop in the ocean. Swim with me for a while, if you'd like? Thank you very much.
> 
> /
> 
> Frank Ocean's Swim Good.


	2. Chapter 1: Take these broken hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When did it start?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety and sadness in this chapter. Please be warned.

When did it start?

He’d heard of them, of course. While he has busy surviving Win, they were taking home awards at MMAs. The first time Bobby properly registered Jungkook though? The Boy in Luv video. Hanbin had flopped onto his bed midway through the frustrating months of hard training and even harder uncertainty that followed Win, and mumbled something about production, and rappers, and cheesiness, and hoping they wouldn’t have to do that. Never-ending perfectionist that he was, Hanbin was the first to spot new groups, pick them apart to make sense of them, only to question himself as he went. 

Bobby simply watched on their old laptop as the video loaded. Eyeliner: check. School uniforms: check. Drama and rebellion: check check. Quite why they were harassing that girl was unclear to him. But he found himself liking the beat, and the rappers’ flow. Until the kid with chubby cheeks gave that rose to the girl, and started singling. The scene was cringy, but that voice... He was living on four hours of sleep a week, and barely functional as Mix & Match kicked off. That voice tucked itself somewhere amid all that, and stayed.

Then came War of Hormone, and Hanbin with another 2 am Diet Coke-in-hand update, as a clear avoidance strategy from worrying about Born Hater. The kid was still cute, and sweet as he smiled wide with Suga on his shoulders, and still had that airy voice, but that was all. And ok, he was also barely 18. Jesus. Bobby had to appreciate the talent. 

And then it was I Need U, and Bobby again found himself nodding along sometime after midnight, as Hanbin waxed lyrical about EDM influences and camera angles. He was more invested in dissecting that beat, and thinking whether they’d have a different visual when they debuted, and secretly admiring Namjoon’s lyricism. 

And somewhere in the back of his mind, through seven hour-long pre-debut training sessions, the breathy ‘why’ from the chorus added itself to his memory. As he closed his eyes at night, it was the soundtrack to his hurricane thoughts. Until 4 AMs came, and he was finally out.

In the whirlwind of iKON’s debut, and the first music shows and concerts, and the Japanese fan meetings, he temporarily forgot about Bangtan. He registered their success with Run (it was difficult not to, given Donghyuk and Chanwoo singing it in the kitchen every morning for days). He saw the MAMA win, heart racing about iKON’s own performance, still only mildly comfortable about all the flashing lights. He had Hanbin to support though, and his bandmates to nurse through aches and crises, and his family to miss, and sore legs to ice, and constantly bleached hair to untangle into something not resembling a nest. There were other things in life, most notably their upcoming singles and daily reviews for the producers, than a competing group from a small company, with a golden maknae at the centre. 

But then: Fools. Hanbin being Hanbin didn’t miss that one either. He still remembers the email subject: “Seriously, why, why?” and the link to the Soundcloud page Hanbin shared the night before. He knew Hanbin was irked by their freedom to release tracks outside their formal schedules, even if they were only covers. The ‘why’ was yet another existentialist cry of their frustrated leader.

As for Bobby, he was stuck in the dorms in the lead up to promotions for Dumb and Dumber and the Japanese debut. A relaxed New Year’s at home was far, far out of reach. He was drained, everyone could see. He felt it in his spine, and in his blood. There was a hard-edged rock stuck in his throat all day, and starting trembles of panic in his fingers. 

He’d snapped at Chanwoo earlier that evening over something he could no longer remember. The rest had gone out for a late dinner after the final dance practice, leaving him behind, with a worried parting glance from Jinhwan. He dragged himself to the kitchen for some water, then back onto his bed. At his side was an odd stillness where six other humans normally resided. The bedroom had only the Christmas lights Jinhwan strung around his doorframe casting a soft light.

He opened the Soundcloud link not really expecting much. The first notes were already filtering through as he got comfortable against the wall, and finally set the headphones over his ears.

And there it was. Breathy low voice laying bare everything that was holding that rock in his throat. He swallowed and it scratched his insides, lodging itself further. He could feel its angles, as the voice painted beauty behind his closed eyelids. 

There was longing, and insanity, and desperation. It was his fault: that the kids didn’t have a better hyung, that Hanbin didn’t have a better partner, that his parents were still far away, that despite the stages, and the magazines, and the fans, and the promises, he was still lacking. He had stripped himself to the bones, and flayed his muscles to broken strings. Nothing remained. There were no aeroplanes or little houses for him to escape to.

There was also no love. When had Bobby last thought of love? Had felt anything resembling the sort? Fumbles with high school girls felt like another life, lived by someone without his edges. By someone who could afford to be foolish, even for a minute. 

He knew it was stupid. He told himself with each repeat that this would be the last time. 

But by the time the guys stumbled back into the dorm, cast away shoes and slammed doors in their wake, Bobby was still frozen against the wall, shivering with each shift of that voice. He had just enough time to lift his shirt to his eyes and rub at them furiously, before turning to his side, and digging his face into the pillow. Jinhwan knocked on his door seconds later, with a small “Bobby?”. Once he saw the pile of blankets wasn’t moving, he slowly closed the door with a soft sigh of good night.

Bobby returned the headphone buds into his ears, pressed play, and tucked Pooh in his embrace. 

The honey voice resumed its whispered reminders: of lost love, of madness, of a different life. That rock slowly crumbled, leaving only darkness, and a feeling of being entirely naked, after what Jungkook’s voice had peeled off of him.

The next morning, Bobby woke to Junhoe pushing his shoulders, in a rush to the studio for the first dance session. 

In his daze, it took him seconds to figure out why he had headphones on, and some more to acknowledge the song was still quietly playing. With a grunt, he propped himself up, dry eyes burning as he blinked them open. He finally pushed pause, to a deafening silence. For the rest of the day, the voice remained by his side. He zoned out more than usual. He felt the looks around him.

He could see he was being foolish. For the first time in a long while though, Bobby wondered whether foolish was all that bad.


	3. Chapter 2: They never see them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then: the recklessness.

“Bobby! Bobby, where are you??”

The Olympic Gymnastics Arena backstage was absolute terror last year. This time around, it was – impossibly and definitely – worse. A sea of cordoned off spaces behind flopping tent sheets in puke green, packed to the brim with managers, coordinators, technicians, producers, vaguely familiar people, all rushing about, headsets screeching away. Ah, the glamour of the Seoul Music Awards. If people only knew.

He was jostled around in all that while getting off stage, then again at the end of the ceremony. They were told it wouldn’t be safe to leave straight away, so a boring wait in their designated area was in the cards. The problem was the guys went ahead, and he needed the bathroom, and before he knew it, all he heard was Hanbin’s voice calling out for him, and then nothing. He wandered around for a while (thanks YG for the no phones at events policy, very helpful), and then spotted an empty cordoned off section near where he thought they prepared earlier. Figured hanging out there for a bit, while things calm down and he can look for the members again, wouldn’t be a bad thing. A bit of quiet to himself, too. To process tonight. 

He had to look like he was having fun. The performance went well – they already heard from the big man saying they looked good out there. This was despite those ridiculous outfits the cordi noonas had them wear. He looked more like a tin foil gerbil on a night out to the noraebang around the corner, than a serious rapper. But he had to swallow it, and be grateful, and above all, smile. Not to mention, after Melon and MAMA, it’d be odd if he all of a sudden wasn’t being loud, and dancing around, and being the centre of Party Central. Plus Namjoon hyung kindly reached out to him earlier while he was going up to receive their New Artist award on stage. It was the correct thing to do. It was what the fans would have wanted. It is also what the members needed to see, after the last two weeks. 

He knew they were worried. Most of his nights since New Year’s were spent cooped up behind closed doors, ignoring the usual drama marathons in the living room, and skipping out on late night chats with Jinhwan. Instead, he found himself feverishly scribbling into his notebook, scratching out, adding more, fingertips tapping, humming to himself as he went. 

“If you see me stumble  
Take me far away from here  
I wanna runaway  
Where nobody can find me  
Where nobody knows my name…”

He was humming the melody under his breath at breakfast, in the van, after practice. They all noticed of course. His even worse than usual dark circles and pimples too. He was a mess.

So tonight, he laughed, and clapped, and smiled. He sent hearts. He even danced for Bangtan and got up after their performance, something the cameras and his CEO was unlikely to miss. He did his job. Even if all this left him as he was now: deeply sweaty, somewhat smelly, and definitely beginning to freeze, unless someone found him soon, or he manages to find them. Where were they?

“Oh.”

Bobby looked up to see Bangtan’s Suga and Jungkook at the tent flap, peeking in, their makeup and outfits clearly ruffled after the performance. For a second, they all stared at each other without moving, before Suga stepped inside first, Jungkook slow at his heels. They both seemed slightly lost, though quickly bowed in greeting. Bobby was still recovering from how short Suga was, and how naturally handsome Jungkook looked (he wasn’t jealous), when Suga spoke, direct and clear.

“Hello. You are Bobby-shi, right? Namjoon-ah mentioned you a few times. Did you happen to see our members by any chance? We got separated after the close, and I have no idea anymore if this is Section HOT, or if someone just played a prank on us and told us this was it, but yeah... We are lost.”

“Hello, Suga-shi. Unfortunately no, I have no idea. I managed to lose my members and the entire YG team too, so… Can’t help I’m afraid.”

“So what are you doing here?”

Bobby felt this was an excellent question, even if Suga’s eyebrow told him he wasn’t necessarily impressed with his ability to recognise it at this stage.

“Well, yes. I got lost too. Went to the bathroom and then returned and found no one, and we don’t have phones, so…”.

“And you are still here because…?”

Ok, Suga was definitely amused now.

“Ah. I figured they would find me? You know, like when your parents tell you to stay in the same place if you get lost? So they can divide and search, and find you easier? Figured it made sense. Outside is mad.”

“Hmm…”

Suga appeared a little bit more impressed, then seemed to consider something, before turning to Jungkook. 

“Kook-ah, you stay here. I’ll go find them, and bring them back. I roamed around earlier, so I know this place better. One of us needs to stay, in case they come find us, and I know how to find my way back. I won’t be long. Bobby-shi, could you keep an eye out on Jungkook while I am away?”

Jungkook, who until then listened quietly behind Suga, seemed startled by this. Bobby could see him starting to protest, but Suga was having none of it. Before either one of them really processed what was happening, Suga waved him off, and dashed away much quicker than Bobby ever thought possible. He left behind him only a blunt silence, before Jungkook quietly muttered, “I hate when they do that”, then looked away, realising he said too much. 

He walked himself slowly to the foldable table in the corner, leaned against it, and looked down at his tapping feet. For the next ten minutes, this was the only sound in the tent. 

Bobby was totally comfortable. Yeah. Totally. 

The agonising lack of conversation eventually came to an unexpected end, just as Bobby was beginning to consider if this was bizarrely some heavens orchestrated chance to tell him about the song. And about his song. And about maybe how odd, and eye-opening, and sad, and thrilling the last few weeks were for him. Or maybe he could skip all that detail, and not make it weird, for love of everything holy. What was wrong with him? 

“Thank you Bobby-shi, but I am going to go look for them.” Jungkook pushed himself off the table, and made his way to the exit.

“Wait.” Damn it to hell, he was going to say something. Ok. 

“The song…” Bobby stared at a small piece of glitter at Jungkook’s feet, as they turned back slowly. 

“….the song?”

Bobby cringed when he realised he had been staring for a few seconds longer than normal in front of someone you don’t know. And the obvious awkwardness in his voice...

“Yes, the song”. Bobby took a low breath, and looked up.

“Which song?” 

Ok, Jungkook was definitely confused. Those eyes though… Open wide, polite, trusting, even though Bobby was clearly being a weirdo, one that Suga-shi was definitely wrong to leave Jungkook with in this empty tent, as half of the staff outside were probably mounting a search and rescue operation, while PR managers pulled their hair. 

Fuck it. When else was he going to get the chance?

“The song you released before New Year’s. With Rap Monster. Namjoon hyung, I mean. You know…”

“Yes, I know hyung….”

“No!” Jungkook jumped a bit, and Bobby added moronic to the supermarket of rock bottom feelings he was currently feeling. 

“No. Ok, let me start again. Fools?”

Bobby looked up on the exhale, and got to see Jungkook stutter, then swallow what seemed a small, high pitched wheeze, before looking away. All this in a space of three seconds that felt like fifty.

“Ah, yes Bobby-shi….” He looked up under his eyelashes a second, his right hand now tucked deep under his left armpit, left arm swinging, until he seemed to realise it, and still.

“I… you know, I heard it. Hanbin showed it to me. He sent me an email with the link. You know Hanbin? B.I.? I mean, I don’t know how much he ever gets out, so you know, he’s kinda difficult to get to know, and he works ridiculous hours, and not that you don’t, but I bet you are nowhere near as awkward as he is. I mean, you know, when he met BoA noona last week, he tripped into a table full of food, and then offered her some salad that he scooped up and wiped, before realising what he was doing, and bowing down into the salad, and then, you know…” Bobby looked up to see Jungkook legitimately looking worried now. 

“Ok, this is going well. Never mind. You are an idiot, Bobby. Fools. I wanted to tell you I listened to it. And, I mean… ok. Ok. I liked it. That’s all. You were great.”

As he looked across at Jungkook again, he seemed taken aback, his left arm now wrapped around his right elbow. Then he smiled, a small tug on the right corner of his lips.

“Thank you, Bobby-shi. That’s kind of you to say.”

“Well….” It was now Bobby’s turn to wrap himself up with his arms, and hope for a mild earthquake to strike Seoul, or a furious head coordi noona to come marching in to give him his standing orders, and banish him to home arrest at the dorms for the foreseeable future. 

“Right… I think they must be looking for me.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry Jungkook-shi”.

“No, no. Thank you, Bobby-shi. Good night”.

Jungkook let the left corner of his lips briefly join the right, then moved. Bobby could see his right shoulder turn, his dark hair a small blur at he reached for the tent flap.

And then: the recklessness. 

Later on that evening, Bobby would spend hours on his bed behind another closed door, running the infuriating thought on an endless loop in his mind: why? Why did he do it? Why did he say it? Why? But in that moment, the deity of everything that Bobby normally wasn’t – madness, stupidity, clumsiness, anguish – decided it was time for some good old fashioned tragedy plus comedy in all their lives. She deserved it, and Bobby… Bobby would surely deliver.

“Jungkook-shi.”

Bobby could see him pause, one foot already outside, a quick look over his right shoulder. 

“I wanted to ask you something else.”

“Yes, Bobby-shi?,” he slowly turned, facing Bobby head on.

“That song… Fools”.

“Yes?”

Ok, deep breath, back straight. Bobby looked up, intentionally and directly into Jungkook’s curious eyes for the first time that evening. 

“That song. Is that… is that how… is that how you feel? Is that how you are? Is that how it is for you too?”

As he exhaled a stuttering breath with the last word, Bobby could see Jungkook twitch back slightly, face paling. The silence stretched as they looked at each other, Jungkook still unmoving. Damn, damn, damn.

“I am sorry Jungkook-shi, I don’t know what came over me, please accept…”

“I don’t know. I… I don’t… …. …. Maybe.”  


Then:

“Too?”

The hesitation was obvious. But he was in front of him, and Bobby had asked, and so Jungkook deserved an answer too.

“Yes. Too. I think… me too. Sometimes.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Hmm.”

And there it was. Recklessness number one. Bobby wouldn’t know it until much later, but that right there? That was also THE start.

**Author's Note:**

> A work of fiction is but a drop in the ocean. Swim with me for a while, if you'd like? Thank you.
> 
> /
> 
> Frank Ocean's Swim Good.


End file.
